


Pocketed

by DwarvenBeardSpores



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam and Eve, Banter, Conversation, Gen, Materialsim, Pockets, Post-Garden, Snake!Crowely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/pseuds/DwarvenBeardSpores
Summary: Aziraphale collects things. Crowley notices.





	Pocketed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoloXam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/gifts).



> So I've been having a lot of conversations recently about Aziraphale liking Stuff, and he does. He is the original clutterbitch. Also steals.

It was a little awkward once the Garden became off limits. Aziraphale and Crowley both had orders to keep an eye on the humans, but there were only the two of them so far. Since they were no longer enclosed, one had to be vigilant that they didn’t wander off and get lost, but since the wilderness was more open and flat and a good deal less pleasant than the garden, there were fewer places to remain inconspicuous.

Crowley was finding his snake form very handy, and alternated sunning himself on the sand, and snuggling halfway down under it. Aziraphale, he noticed (he couldn’t not notice), had gone for some sort of distant vigil. He was always there, on the horizon, just too far away for the humans to make out clearly. Sometimes they would look at him and wave and he would give an awkward, slightly guilty wave back, and sometimes they would wave and he would pretend he hadn’t seen them.

There had been weeks of this, and Crowley was quite impressed with what Adam and Eve had managed to do with the flaming sword, and _without_ the flaming sword, but he was also restless. Surely there would be no harm in talking to the angel for a little bit. And if they were together, really, they could each keep an eye out and some of the pressure would be off.

So he cut a wide circle around Adam and Eve’s camp and slithered up to Aziraphale, just in time to see the angel pick something off the ground, admire it a moment, and then drop it in the folds of his robes. Crowley watched and felt the sand carefully, but the object never made it to the ground.

“What’sss that?” Crowley asked, lifting his head off the sand to see and be seen better.

Aziraphale jumped. “Oh! Oh, it’s just you.”

“Well I like _that,_ ” Crowley said. Aziraphale was still looking nervous, like he’d been caught at something, and Crowley desperately wanted to know what it was. “What’re you doing?”

“Well, er.” Aziraphale reached into his robes and pulled out a rock. “It’s just a stone. I was admiring it.”

Crowley slithered closer to look. It certainly was a stone, kind of grey-ish beige with a sharp bit on one end. Not unlike hundreds of stones that he’d slithered past in the past day. Aziraphale held it gently in his palm, but snatched it away when Crowley stuck out his tongue to smell it.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said crossly.

Crowley hissed in annoyance. “Don’t see what’s so special about it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Aziraphale said with a sniff. “It requires an _angelic_ appreciation for the creation of this place.”

“You like it here, then?” Crowley said, watching that rock carefully. “The grit and the wind and the wild animals? Eve puking all over the ground in the mornings?”

“Of course I do,” said Aziraphale, with a slightly pained expression. “It would be impossible for me not to.”

“There,” said Crowley, catching some not-so-surreptitious movement. “You’re keeping it in your robes?”

“Er,” said Aziraphale.

“What’s the point? Won’t it fall out?”

“It most certainly will not,” said Aziraphale. He glanced at Crowley, then at Adam and Eve who seemed to be asleep, then vaguely around as though he expected somebody to be listening in. “I’ve altered them. I’ve made a sort of… of pocket, in the cloth, and I can keep things there.” He demonstrated by cupping his hands, looking almost proud.

Crowley was intrigued and snaked forward to take a closer look. “How deep is it?”

“Deep enough.”

Sure enough, there was an opening in Aziraphale’s robes, just above his hip. Crowley’s scales tingled when he brushed against the angelic fabric draped over an angelic body, but he was too curious to back away. Aziraphale made no move to stop him. Inside the pocket was dark and warm and, while Crowley couldn’t get a good sense of how much space there was (he suspected Aziraphale might be cheating to make the pocket deeper than should have been possible), there were already many rocks, as well as some sticks and leaves.

He pulled his head out. “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if someone went to all the trouble to make one and then it couldn’t fit anything?”

Aziraphale glared. “No,” he said. “And if you’re going to be like that— I don’t know why I showed you in the first place.” He stepped away, putting a good foot of distance between Crowley and the pocket.

“I didn’t mean _yours,_ ” Crowley said. “I was just thinking. What are you going to do with those rocks, anyway?”

“Just… hold onto them, I suppose.” Aziraphale reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone, different from the one he’d had earlier. It was perfectly smooth and striped through with different colors. Crowley recognized it immediately.

“Were you allowed to take things from the Garden?”

Aziraphale looked guilty again. “Surely they would have stopped me if I wasn’t.”

“Huh,” said Crowley. He wouldn’t have dared to risk it.

Aziraphale turned the stone in his hands almost reverently, and Crowley couldn’t help but follow the movement. He hadn’t noticed Aziraphale collecting things in the Garden, and hadn’t suspected it of him; not with the way he’d given off the sword.

“May I?”

“Don’t _lick_ it this time,” Aziraphale said, but he held the rock forward, and Crowley pressed his snout against it. It felt cool and safe and _familiar,_ properties he was not sure a rock should have. He rather wished he had one of his own.

“So, coveting physical objects now, are we?” he said instead.

Aziraphale snatched the rock back and shoved it deep in that mysterious pocket. “I’m not _coveting_ them. I’m holding on to them, in case someone needs them later.”

“Like you? To look at?”

“There’s no harm in looking,” Aziraphale snapped. “It’s just… nice to have them, that’s all. Especially if I’m going to be following these humans all across the Earth.” He squinted down at the camp. “Oh dear. They’re not there anymore.” He turned to glare at Crowley. “I suppose this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Crowley turned to where the humans should have been. They were indeed gone. He hissed. “Don’t see what good that would do _me_. Can’t take your eyes off them for a minute, humans.”

Aziraphale sniffed. Without another word he spread his wings and flew off, taking his mementos with him. Crowley watched him for several moments before he lowered his head back to the sand and followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought. 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr as dwarven-beard-spores, dreamwidth as dwarvenbeardspores, and sometimes on twitter as @beardspores.


End file.
